by Geof, glucose-aware and still poetic

🍞 White Bread
Soft as a lullaby, sliced with ease,
it cradles the butter, it aims to please.
But oh, the spike, the stealthy rise—
I pass it by with narrowed eyes.

🥔 Mashed Potatoes
Creamy clouds on a Sunday plate,
they whisper comfort, they tempt fate.
I count the carbs, I dodge the mash—
a spoonful now feels brash and rash.

🍚 White Rice
Polished pearls in a steaming heap,
they lull the tongue, they make me weep.
I swap for barley, quinoa’s cheer—
but jasmine still draws near, too near.

🍝 Pasta
Twists and ribbons, sauce-soaked bliss,
a tangled kiss I dearly miss.
I twirl restraint around my fork—
and serve up lentils, squash, or cork.

🍕 Pizza Crust
Golden edge of molten sin,
it holds the cheese, it reels me in.
I nibble toppings, dodge the base—
a crustless life, a slower pace.

🥞 Pancakes
Stacked like dreams on a diner tray,
they rise with syrup, then betray.
I flip my cravings, count the toll—
and let the almond batter roll.

🍟 French Fries
Crisp rebellion in a paper cone,
they crunch like joy, they moan and groan.
I sniff, I sigh, I walk away—
my pancreas has final say.

🍿 Popcorn (buttered)
Movie-night muse,
a salty flirt, it pops with glee,
it wears a shirt of melted gold and hidden cost—
I portion small, or mourn the lost.

🥖 Bagels
Dense and proud, a chewy ring,
they sing of brunch and everything.
I slice regret, I halve the round—
and seek a thinner, safer sound.

🍰 Cake
Frosted lies in layered form,
they dance at birthdays, sweet and warm.
I toast with berries, skip the slice—
and write a poem in sacrifice.

🩺 Final Verse: The Reckoning
So here I stand, carb-curious still,
with measured joy and tempered will.
I mourn the feast; I praise the fight—
and find new sweetness in the light.